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Adrian fucking DeLoughrey.

Another goddamn Legacy Ruisangor. The one who was already actively involved in his father's DeLoughrey wine business. Who, like his father, already owned several shares in arms and pharmaceutical companies. And who invested his entire inheritance in the DLSC as if this research center were a gold mine.

This man was one of the three sons of the clan leader. And he was the one I had been able to find out the least about so far, because he knew how to cover his tracks. He probably owed this to his degree in business informatics – where he had learned the fundamentals of IT systems, computer networks, and cybersecurity – as well as to his five years of DUIO training.

I shifted my gaze from Adrian to Larissa.

That was what Emely had called her.

She looked me over indecisively, not at all hostile, even though everything about her screamed trouble. The black leather jacket, the tight black fabric underneath that hugged her well-shaped tits, the black jeans, and boots of the same color.

“Larissa,” the DeLoughrey murmured darkly, placing a hand on her upper back. “Come.”

I clenched my hands into fists as they walked past me, aware that Adrian was watching me, as if he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be her death.

He was goddamn lucky we were in Blairville. Out there, where there were no treaties, I wouldn't hesitate for a second.

But in that very moment, I had my doubts. Because just a few seconds ago, it had looked very different.

Why had I failed once again to show how much I hated Ruisangors from the very first moment? Why hadn't I stared at her with hostility and torn her apart with a harmless threat?

Maybe because I didn't hate Ruis, but was merely hunting them to relieve stress. To finally find a limit. Something that would satisfy the insatiable craving for adrenaline inside me. Something impossible, because that limit kept shifting higher and higher. I wanted more, needed the thrill like my lungs needed air to breathe.

A kick like this touch...

I had indeed just touched devil’s territory. Something I often tried when I did risky things, when I chased the thrill, knowing that it could kill me.

Normally, I loved this kind of ecstasy. But in that moment, I hated the fact that for a second, I had felt the urge to run my fingers over the edges of the gates of hell again.

Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue)

Hozier

The moment I opened the door of the modern A-frame wooden cabin and entered one of the two lake houses I had bought three years ago, I heard the colored pencils fall off the kitchen table.

The Alpha had once designed and arranged the construction of these rustic yet very modern family homes, along with the wooden paths and lake terraces. But for whatever reason, he had never completed the planned housing project for the Esadowa tribe. And so thirty-five uninhabited luxury homes stood surrounding one of the most beautiful lakes in Canada, hidden in the middle of the Copeland Woods and partially surrounded by the islands' mountains.

I didn't complain because I had my peace and quiet out here and a whole lake to myself when I felt like training. And since no one from the pack ever strayed here, I had basically won the jackpot.

“Kieran?” a wary little girl’s voice sounded, as if there was even the slightest chance that someone else might show up here. And it broke my damn heart.

Still, I couldn't help but grin and toss the keys into the bowl on the dresser as a small head peeked around the corner and Azara's long copper-red hair dangled in the air.

“Kieran!”

Beaming, she rushed around the corner, straight toward me, still wearing the brown monkey onesie I had bought for her, which she hadn't wanted to take off after her bath that morning.

“Hey, little monkey,” I laughed and let her jump into my arms. “Who's my big wild girl?”

I tossed her up in the air. Child's play. Especially since she was only four years old.

“Ahh!” she squealed with laughter, wild red strands of hair falling into her face. “No, Kieran, stop it!”

She giggled in my arms, and I carried her back to the living area, which offered a good view of the frozen lake through the fully glazed, triangular, floor-to-ceiling window front.

But Azara only had eyes for the setting sun, which was about to disappear behind the coniferous trees like a fireball.

Of course, I had made sure the windows were covered with mirrored film, which allowed you to look out from the inside, but not the other way around and was specially designed for houses that were lit up at night.